


Merry Bad End

by Makowo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bad end, Blood, Corruption, Despair, F/M, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Horror, Implied Cannibalism, Insanity, Kyoko kinda fucks herself over because she confesses to Makoto at the worst time, Murder, Murderer Naegi Makoto, and fucks everyone else too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21560440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makowo/pseuds/Makowo
Summary: Makoto should have learned by now.Even those closest to you will betray you.(He never knew this would be so cathartic)
Relationships: Enoshima Junko/Naegi Makoto, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	Merry Bad End

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this one for a while now, and have had the idea for even longer. We always get despair and mastermind makotos, but murderer makoto? Rare. Kinda accidentally combined all three into this but fuck it, he do a murder

The trial room is loud upon this day. It reeks of sorrow, heartbreak all around. Startlingly clear, even with one masking their true emotion as they have done the entire game. For the strongest of them, deemed as so by even Togami Byakuya, though silently, is gone. Their ranks dwindling once more, and soon they shall dwindle to even slimmer numbers. Less survivors of a school drenched in blood and despair, threatening to swallow up its inhabitants at any time.

Emotion brims with watery tears of one, the swimmer gripping her podium. “Who?!” She cries, tense silence growing thicker by the moment. “Who did it?! Who killed Kirigiri-chan?!” Her gaze sweeps across the room, analyzing all but one so very closely. The one spared of her scrutinizing glare is frozen, shock and fear written upon his features often decorated with hope and determination to find the truth. But suddenly he’s lost the drive to find it, still going purely on autopilot as he pipes up.

“I… I think Fukawa-san did it.” He says in a much softer tone, though still easily managing to attract the attention of the others. “Or, at least, Syo did it.”

“But why? How?” Togami leers at the shorter teen, and as he may appear unfazed, his hands still quiver when he pushes up his glasses. “Syo is not one to change her modus operandi on such short notice, or at all for that matter.”

“Didn’t you say she tried to attack you, though?” He retorts with quick wit, sharpened by four prior trials. “Today, just this morning. You were clearly panicked, and there was a rip in your shirt. You mentioned Syo attacked you in your sleep because you forgot to lock your door.” The man huffs, biting his lip at such an embarrassing truth. “Kirigiri-san must have noticed it, and tried to confront her in the dining hall. Th-then, she was…” He trails off slowly, gaze trying not to glance to the monochrome portrait depicting the stoic girl’s once porcelain complexion, now tainted by a bloody check mark. It compares little to the scene they all were met with in the hall, her body upon the table, the scent of blood wafting out even into the halls…

Three stares lock onto a quivering girl dressed in dark, bland purple, fiddling with the ends of her hair in silent terror of the potential truth. “I-I don’t kn-know… I-I h-had j-j-just w-woke up wh-when th-th-the announcement-went off…” Fear radiates off her, though it garners little pity from the others present.

“That’s wrong!” Makoto yells, making the others jolt with the uncharacteristic ferocity present in the tone, replacing his soft voice from moments ago. “I saw you walking back to your room when I came out of mine at the announcement. And I think Asahina-san can provide a bit more evidence…”

The girl gives him a quizzical look, head cocked to the side. “I can?” Realization washes over her soon after, making her eyes light up. “I can! I saw Fukawa-chan in the dining hall this morning! She was running out when I found the body, and then I went to grab Togami-kun and Hagakure-kun!” She looks over at Makoto, eyeing his solemn expression. “I’m sorry I didn’t go to get you first, Naegi-kun…”

The boy smiles reassuringly, though it’s so clearly half-hearted. “It’s okay, Asahina-san.” His gaze narrows, staring intensely at Toko. “I… I’m not sure if there’s really anything else to discuss, though. Fukawa-san…” He frowns, his hands clenched into tight fists. His anger is clear to all, yet there’s also sorrow for Toko’s life, that they shall lose more soon enough.

“Eh? Ehhhhhhh?” A cheery, high-pitched voice rings out, though few are shaken by it now. “What’s that? It sounds like it’s voting ti-”

“W-wait a second!” Yasuhiro, of all people, cuts off the demented bear, sweat trailing down from his brow. “If it really was her, th-then what happened to her scissors? Did she get em mixed up with a knife?”

A scoff. “We have already discussed this. The scissors were found in my room, and we can only assume she dropped them.”

The older “teen” immediately calms, laughing casually. “Oh yeah! Sorry for doubtin’ ya, Naegicchi.” Makoto only smiles back.

“Grrrraaaa!” The monocolored bear stands up, stomping its little paws in anger. “Are we done now?! I’ve got a killing game to run! We can’t keep taking up the run time with all this pointless chatter!” 

“Yes.” Makoto responds before any other, a hand placed flat upon his own podium. “We’re… we’re ready to vote.” He refrains from saying any more, fearful of what he may spout upon the impending fit of emotion he shall have within the coming minutes after more blood is spilled.

“Wonderful!” It cheers, plopping back down upon its extravagant throne. There is something sickening about it, something terribly, terribly wrong with the sight they are presented with. Because rather than an excited spiel, the bear only taps a button to bring up the list of those they may vote for this time. Nothing more said, only eager watching, every one of them under the scrutiny of a monster’s jagged red gaze.

They vote, one by one. Yasuhiro frowns as he taps the tablet’s surface. Aoi stifles sobs as she follows suit. Toko trembles with unbridled fear that Syo was unwilling to appear this time, nearly missing who she wishes to vote for. Togami tsks once, voting swiftly in the wish to get this over with.

The only one not to show an ounce of hesitance, not even an ounce of _emotion_ , is Makoto. The one they believe most shaken by Kirigiri’s death.

A screen slowly comes down from a slit in the ceiling, playing the usual roulette, the living participants so far on able to look on in anticipation.

They watch as-

* * *

_Within the darkened halls of the once hopeful academy stands Kirigiri Kyoko, the mystery-talented girl that virtually no one has managed to get close to. Save for one person however. He doesn’t understand it; he’s barely significant in any way, a talentless fool with only luck by his side, and bad luck at that. So how, he must wonder at the times when he stirs in a cold sweat, trying to forget his now common night terrors, did he manage to gain the trust of someone so aloof?_

_Maybe tonight he shall find that answer, having been informed to speak with the girl prior to the nighttime announcement. But strangely, she had specified they speak within the dining hall, which is off limits at night. Which he finds… really, really weird. Maybe he just heard her wrong? Most likely, he had to have._

_The boy discards his frayed thoughts, opting instead to jog over to the girl(pretty silently, having opted against going through the extra effort of grabbing his shoes)he’s supposed to meet tonight. “Kirigiri-san.” He starts softly, feeling the need to whisper. Perhaps it is because of the secrecy he feels with this meeting, or perhaps he’s just fearful of any others that may be wandering the halls at such a late time. “Can’t we talk in the morning? I’m sure-”_

_Makoto blinks when he notices something… very weird. “... You’re hair’s wet.” He points out dumbly, staring at the dripping wet lavender hair in complete and utter confusion because the water_ shouldn’t _be on at this hour. And he severely doubts the girl decided to dunk her head in the toilet. “How…?”_

_“I’ll explain soon.” She responds in a curt manner, arms crossed over her chest. She turns away from the confused boy, marching off in a silent demand to follow. And he does so willingly, keeping his steps silent yet shaky. There’s no reason why her hair should be wet. And he can tell she didn’t just fill up a cup or two with water and kept it in her room for use. That’s pointless! And he doesn’t think she has the skills to somehow turn the water on, so… just what in the hell is going on right now?_

_It feels as though his mind breaks even further when the girl opens the door to the dining hall, entering without a_ **_single appearance_ ** _from Monokuma._

_He stops at the door, instinctive nervousness washing over his will to follow Kyoko. She turns around as soon as she notices he’s not walking in, turning back around to face him. “Come in. It’s fine, Monokuma won’t punish us.”_

_Makoto trusts Kyoko with his life, so of course he ignores all internal warnings that have been ingrained into his mind for the entirety of this game and steps in after her. An instinctual wince escapes him, followed by a quick, nervous glance around the room. Nothing. Nothing at all. “K-Kirigiri-san…” He looks back up to her, walking closer._

_She walks towards, then past him, shutting the doors presumably so that none can know about this. “I’ve figured out the motive.” The girl says, her voice echoing through the large room._

_“Wh-what?!” He gasps, tensing in his spot by the large table in the middle of the room. Monokuma had mentioned a new motive being released, as usual after a murder. But this time, he had kept it secret. He just told them to figure it out themselves, which was… very weird. Of course it was, there’s no need to point that out. But no one was really looking for it or anything. “What is it then?!”_

_Kyoko turns around, studying the shocked boy for a moment before walking towards him. “There aren’t any rules.” She responds in a strangely soft, almost shaky voice that puts the boy off immediately. “And only we know of the motive.”_

_Makoto catches a glint of metal behind the girl._

_“And soon, only I will.”_

_The knife thrusts into the air where Makoto once was, the boy dodging in the knick of time. Being in this hellhole has gifted him decent enough reflexes to dodge an attack he knows is coming at him, but he’s still surprised. “K-Kirigiri-sa-”_

_“I like you, Naegi-kun”_

_He blinks, pauses. She thrusts once more, and he stumbles backwards before the tip can reach his chest, falling down. And now, Kyoko stands over him, knife glinting coldly in her gloved hand that he can’t help but look at in horror. Is this how Maizono felt, cornered by someone with the pure intent to end the life of the person in front of them, unable to do anything more than tremble and await their demise?_

_But… perhaps he could do something. He doesn’t want Kyoko to become a murderer. He won’t let it happen._

_“K-Kirigiri-san… what do you mean?” His brow furrows, staying in his spot as Kyoko stays in hers._

_“It means I like you.” She says again in a far too flat tone, something that he mentally prays is forced rather than natural. “And perhaps, if things were different, we could have... gotten together.”_

_Naegi stays silent as he stumbles to his feet, thankful that Kyoko actually lets him. “Kirigiri-san, it… it doesn’t have to be this way. Things don’t_ need _to be like this. You don’t-”_

_“I do.” He pauses, glimpsing the grip on the knife’s handle tighten. “I do, because I’ve realized the truth, Naegi.” Her gaze turns harsh, narrowed and brimming with a look he wishes stayed within his nightmares. “This game is rigged. It cannot be ended, for eventually, someone shall kill. Someone shall give in again, and we’ll be forced to watch our numbers dwindle to barely any.”_

_The knife is raised, reflecting Makoto’s stunned, horrified expression. “I won’t lose. I won’t lose this chance.” She says, with pure conviction in her voice that sends a chill down his spine. She’s so… sure. She’s so, so completely sure about this decision. And he knows that she_ has _to have thought this over a million times. He knows that she is well aware of everything to gain and lose from this scenario, for that is just how she is. And once, he admired that detail about her, but now? Now he is_ **_terrified_ ** _of it._

_“Kyoko, I-”_

_He feels metal just barely brush against skin. His skin, grazing the edge. The rip of clothes rings through the room, and it sounds so l o u d to Makoto. He glances to it, then back up, as he worries not for a potential tear in his skin nor the definite tear in his clothes. Instead, he worries for Kyoko, holding onto a hope that maybe, maybe she shall snap out of her intent to kill upon noticing she nearly did._

_Her eyes remain filled with it. Blankness. Her expression is completely and utterly_ **_blank_ ** _._

_She tries again. He dodges. This time though, he does not speak. He doesn’t grasp at any more words that might help him prevent his life being ended. Desperation is running through his veins now, discarding any wishes to calm the murderous girl down. She’ll simply continue on, he knows that now. Makoto’s trust in Kyoko has been discarded, exchanged for the chance of freedom from this hellish prison._

_The person Makoto felt he could trust the most is trying to kill him._

_He steps back, heart stopping for a single moment at his latest, and most dreaded, realization._

**_There’s no one here he can trust, is there? Perhaps… there never w a s._ **

_Makoto’s expression goes nearly as blank as hers, his eyes narrowing at her before darting forward. She misses. Maybe she keeps missing because she doesn’t want to do this, but she still clearly is leaning towards hurting him. She wants to spill his guts, and it’s not like he’s just going to sit there and let her._

_All his thoughts screech to a halt and are discarded with haste, the boy moving as if on autopilot now. He grabs her right wrist, kicking his attacker in the stomach and grabbing the handle of the weapon as it slips out of her grasp. She hits the table with a loud slam, but it does nothing to faze Naegi, instead only motivating him to move forward and grab her by the hair, slamming her down onto the flat surface. Some primal force in him forces out an uneven yet elated breath at her harsh cry, but it’s loud enough to make him jolt._

_There’s a moment where he pauses, a moment of considering his actions and his current choice. Doubt embeds itself into him, screaming his morals. This would ruin everything they’ve worked towards and completely forsake the victims of this cruel game’s memory. He’d be betraying not just Kyoko, but himself, and every person that knows and trusts him not to give in to everything Monokuma’s thrown at them._

_But the sight before him, that strikes a different cord. Before him is not the mysterious teen he looked up to, the unknown Ultimate by his side that’s carried him and the others so far. It is simply a girl he is met with, thrashing and struggling and craving to live. So beautifully human, striking him now that perhaps she always was rather than some unfazeable case-solving machine._

_He craves to break something, anything. Venting out this destructive force that’s taken such a tight hold on him. Dormant, waiting for so long in his heart and now bursting forth to unveil itself. Pink paints his vision, any beginnings of screams cut spectacularly short. He realizes now, how the culprits have felt in the past. That once they started, it was hard to stop until this feeling was finally sated._

_He’d rather not speak of the exhilaration. The sickening thrill coiling tight around his mind, lungs barely taking in much needed breath as the seconds pass by. What fills his ears is static, behind it the rampant chaos of hot pink betrayal he’s sowing with the sharp, stained metal wedge. He barely feels Kyoko kick him, if he could feel it at all with how utterly weak it was._

_Weak. Kyoko is w e a k._

_A sharp breath is what punctuates his mind being thrown back to the present, and he is met with his crime. Pink is splattered not only upon his hands and jacket and the cold kitchen knife, but upon the table too. And the chairs, and the floor, and even to the smaller tables littering the room. It’s a one person bloodbath, and he’s terrified to look at her. But he can’t pull his shaky pupils nothing more than pinpricks in reddish-hazel away from her body, or whatever the mangled pile of gore resembles._

_Kyoko’s limbs are a mixture of diced, mashed, and practically dissected as they hang by only the thin tendons of muscle that weren’t ripped away by his bare hands, one leg threatening to fall right off and into the blood pooling on the once white tiles. Her skirt is nothing more than shreds of soaked cloth that’s unable to hide the cracked bone poking through, likely of her hip and partially the pelvis. Her stomach is likely the least appalling sight, but no less gory. It’s only filled with a bright overflowing liquid and sort of paste created by her guts being churned right inside the hollow, pieces of bone floating within, all of this comprising a sickening soup of her precious life. But the worst had to be her face. The lower jaw - he recalls ripping it off; it stopped her screams - lies within her neck, as if it were used as a makeshift knife to disconnect her head from her body. Her bloody, unrecognizable face, once warm purple eyes having been pushed into the sockets before torn out with a rough stab. Her scalp is nearly scrapped off her head as well, revealing the top of her caved, broken skull._

_And all he can think of while taking in the scene is what they’ll be forced to investigate later on._

_Cackling and the rapid tap of shoes against tile brings Naegi from his terrified stupor, and he swears his neck nearly snaps as he locks his attention onto the newcomer. The serial killer dashes in, though has no chance to announce herself before actually_ gawking _at the sight. In fact, it takes a few moments of silence before either of them does anything at all, Syo taking the initiative to break the horrible stillness._

_“So… seems the egg finally cracked, eh?” She giggles, and Makoto finds his own threatening to spill past his partially parted lips. “Damn! I really ain’t ever gonna get my own chance to be in the spotlight, eh? Oh well~” Before Makoto can react the girl’s right up in his face, pushing aside the bloody weapon and staring into his blank, tear-filled eyes. “But really, what pushed ya to the limit, eh? Just what the hell made ya kill_ **_her_ ** _-”_

_In the blink of an eye she’s on the ground, out cold. And a moment later, pain blooms upon his temple. “... Ah.” He headbutted her. He… he doesn’t recall actively doing it though. It were as if some malicious force took over for one last time, only to dissipate. But he still feels it, coiled tight and harsh around his heart. It’s settling, rather than sleeping once more. For the trial,_ **_oh god the trial his trial he’ll be on trial._ **

_His vision blurs, nausea and pain permeating his head as he stumbles out of the dining hall. He quivers under the strange lights, each step causing blood to drip from his socks. But it’s drying, bit by bit. Enough to where it doesn’t lead to his room as he stumbles in, closing it behind him with a loud slam. It’s not like there’s anyone to hear it anyways._

_“K-Kyo… Kyoko…” Naegi finally becomes aware of his own deranged, traumatized muttering. He goes quiet, but his mind lacks such will to stop. Constant, swirling thoughts plague his mind, his thoughts, every last one of them tainted hot pink. He’d apologize, and oh he does, in his dreams and night terrors alike, he’s always muttering an apology to her._

_Why_ **_is_ ** _he apologizing though?_

_It was her fault._

_She caused this. This is her doing. She didn’t gore herself, but she did push him over the edge._

_It’s her fault. It’s her fault. It’s all her fault._

_She did manage to kill him, Naegi thinks. She managed to stab him right in the heart, tearing to pieces and hollowing it out, letting despair fill the hole his hope once did._

_And-_

* * *

-M _a_ k _o_ t _o_ l _a_ u _g_ h _s_.

The sound is a terrible one. Like that of metal grinding against metal. It rings in all the trial room’s inhabitant’s ears, forming a terrible chime that puts Monokuma’s sadistic cackles in the face of another’s despair to shame.

“Kiri... K-Kirigiri-san _loved me_ , y-ya know?” Another giggle hisses its way out of his scratchy throat, threatening to bring stomach acid with it. “Sh-she… she c-confessed, r-right in front of me! Wh-while she was trying to kill me!” His knuckles turn white from the death grip he has on his podium. He can’t attack them, _oh no._ They have another fate in store for them, one he can’t bother to mess with. “I-isn’t that just _cruel?!_ ”

His snarl is met with silence, but their damning stares make him falter just slightly. But the sight of the roulette, locked between different faces - their faces, but his isn’t present - makes him grin. He’s won. _He’s won._ Average, innocent Makoto… **killed and got away with it.**

“Upupupu~” Monokuma - _no_ , not Monokuma. Junko, standing there, looking down upon them like a vulture waiting for its prey to succumb to death. “Dawwww, you guys came aaaaaallllll this way, only for that little good ending you had in arm’s reach to be tossed away by the one you trusted most!” Shrill laughter rings out, all innocents horrified. “Damn, Kyo-tan suuuure was close though! Maybe if she hadn’t confessed, she wouldn’t have gotten cold feet and been slaughtered by her crush!” She flops down against the throne, throwing her legs over the armrest and gazing up at the ceiling with closed eyes. “Ah, young love~ The most tragically entertaining sort of love~!”

“Hey!”

“Eh?” She opens one eye, peering down at Togami. “Hm~? What’s up Byakuya-bo? Tryin’ to usurp Mako-chan’s protag role now that he’s got blood on his hands?” She looks away, raising the plush Monokuma to her face. “Nope nope nope! Not gonna cut it with _that_ hairstyle!”

Byakuya growls, glaring at her with such anger even Makoto leers away a little, despite it not being directed at him at the moment. “Cut it with the idiotic playing! Who the hell are you?!”

“Oooooh, Byakuya-bo, swearing? Even more wild than Makoto swearing out loud with a stable mindset!” She cackles, kicking her legs in excitement. “Okay okay, gonna give you guys a quick rundown, since it ain’t gonna matter in the end!” She sits up with a dramatic flourish, tossing the Monokuma to the side in exchange for a clipboard(which lacks paper) and pen. “I’m the real Junko and the Junko you guys met was a fake that happened to be my twin, the entire world has been destroyed by a despair apocalypse that I started, I took about two years worth of memories from all of you, aaaaand I think that’s about it? No, wait-” She puts on some glasses, adjusting them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, yeah! Naegi is the heir to all of my cool shit because he took me on some nice dates and did a pretty epic murder.” She tosses the clipboard and pen away, breaking the glasses and dropping them. “Welp, that’s all the plot twists this story! Time to die!”

With that, without giving the panicking and confused innocents any time to respond, she twirls a hammer into her hands, raising it up high before smacking it down on the red button, breaking it upon impact. There’s a loud rumble that goes through the building, before five collars shoot down from the ceiling and lock around the convicted student’s necks. The exception being Naegi, of course, who looks on in… horror?

“M-my… my friends…” He swallows hard, face having gone pale. Oh, he’s managed to recall some things Junko spoke of. Carefree friendships with the class, lovely sunsets being lost with the arrival of a mass suicide from Hope’s Peak students, riots, death. Love… despair. Such lovely, lovely _despair_.

Junko, standing before him. Something’s in her hands, raised high above her. He hopes it’s a knife, or the hammer, but no. He doesn’t flinch as a crown is placed upon his head, colors matching his own clothes well. It’s placed right upon his prominent ahoge, which diverges into a set of spikes resembling horns. “My little angel turned devil.” She giggles, and Makoto finds himself breathless as he stares up at her-

Something clamps itself around his neck. It’s cold. _Metal_. He looks down in surprise, then in shock as he’s shackled to the ground by more collars shooting up from the ground. “J-Junko-chan-”

His goddess hushes him, a gentle caress of his cheek calming him near immediately. “It’s okay, puppy. I just don’t want you getting all… _feisty_ during this.” And with that, a collar clasps her neck as well, and she’s dragged away. The luckster is about to call out for her when something pricks at his skin, needles sinking in from the collars into his flesh and injecting him with some sort of drug.

He expects poison.

He gets something worse.

* * *

_Within the depths of Hope’s Peak Academy’s ruined basement, a girl slowled in purples of all different shades investigates. She lacks company, but solely because her partner had confessed his feelings of nausea from the fall he took in the most recent execution. His execution, one that would have been brutal were it not for Alter Ego showing up at the last moment. Makoto’s such a mysteriously lucky boy, despite being so open._

_She wanders into whatever rooms she has access to, clearing away bits of debris when needed. It appears this place had been subjected to an explosion, but why all the way down here? Why so much to hide another set of dorms? For now she’ll simply need to accept that the majority can’t be accessed, all except for one._

_And oh, how strange it is to find a blank dorm. Perhaps it hadn’t been assigned to anyone? But she discovered a nameplate(partially broken so the name wasn’t telligible) on the door opposite of this one, so perhaps one that went unused? She doubts it, really. But the best option is to look inside._

_The door opens with a loud creak, assaulting Kyoko’s senses with a flurry of dust. She coughs into her hand, covering her nose and mouth whilst waiting for the dust to settle. It’s a clear sign that this place hasn’t been entered in some time. A useful clue, hopefully._

_Her eyes widen a bit when she’s faced with the room’s apparent occupation._

_Kyoko covers her nose once more when taking in the scent of blood, and though it being a scent she’s used to in her line of work(presumably), the remnants of a bloodbath rivaling the one found in the classroom on the top floor make her nearly retch._

_Upon closer inspection, it’s clear it wasn’t done recently. The stench of decay wafts from the body lying on the bed. Or at least, what’s left of it. Organs and muscles line the walls, making her flinch. Truly, a sight she’d prefer not to see, nor be the victim to such an act of anger. Or, perhaps, pleasure. People are strange, the perpetrator of this crime could have any reason to gore a person to such unspeakable levels. But who? Who is this person, nothing more than bones before her._

_Kyoko steps on something metal, and reels back. “Hm?” A glance down, and deep purple eyes meet a camera, lying on the floor. It’s perfectly clean, and doesn’t appear to have any dust on it, so it’s likely someone put it in here recently. But that doesn’t explain why no one’s gone in here for so long, nor why the hot pink of fresh blood has long dried to a dull red, almost black color._

_She picks up the camera. And her eyes widen upon noticing that it’s on, a video ready to be played. Without much thought, she presses start-_

_And her father is presented, tied to the bedpost. The camera doesn’t shake as if being held, so it appears only one person occupies the clean dorm. One person that’s struggling in his binds, gagged so that no calls for help can ring out. Not that anyone would hear the man, if the walls here are also soundproofed._

_Someone walks in from the right of the screen, dressed in a green cloak that covers their entire body. Her father glances up, and quickly begins shaking his head at the person, leering away fearfully. Tears prick at his eyes, clearly terrified of whoever this person might be. The mastermind, most likely. Or one of their accomplices-_

_The cloaked person tears away the cloth keeping them hidden to reveal the same boy that had meant to join her in her exploring, eyes a striking ruby red decorated with blackened swirls for pupils, drooling excitedly at the sight of the man before him. He lunges-_

_Kyoko throws the camera to the wall, hearing it crack upon contact with the corner jutting out. Makoto - oh holy shit, Makoto, he had… he’s…_

_The detective swallows back bile, standing up from a tumble to the bloodstained floor. He’s… he’s the mastermind. Makoto’s the mastermind. He has to be, right? That deranged, bloodthirsty look… glaring down at her father as if he were some piece of_ meat _. It’s a look she can’t help imagining directed at herself one day…_

_And she can’t let him live on, if he truly is the orchestrator of this hellish nightmare._

_That’s her righteous reasoning, anyways. She just doesn’t want to become food for some t h i n g, even if she loves him._

* * *

_Hazel locks with crystal blue, candy-colored lips preaching sweet, sweet poison, and all he could think is_ “ _I love you,” even as she brings the world to its knees with a loyal, once pure dog by her side._

_Memories flash. A lifetime, encapsulated between moments. There’s laughter, yells, smiles of excitement. Happiness paints itself across the canvas of lively young teens, speaking of wonderful days where the sun shines high above and hot pink did not fill the streets, but rather them. He finds it strange, wrong, that their laughs and yells and smiles are not tainted in pitch black, the air shrill with screams of terror and copper stinging at their noses._

_There is purity in every one of them. All of them, holding it so incredibly close. Makoto sees it now. He is not masked by innocence of his own, and knows terribly well that no, they are not wreathed in complete white. There is still a pinprick of darkness in every one of them, just waiting to unfurl and swirl until they are stained pink and black and named that of the bringer of death, forced to pay the toll of taking a life with their own._

_It’s sickening. It’s all so sickening, every sight and smell and sound that fills his senses, blurring into one painful knife plunging into his head. He doesn’t want it, screams for it to stop, but there is no one left to answer such desperate pleas. They’re all, a l l gone. He knows it, as a lovely cackle is cut off by the sickening crunch of the press he was once destined to stain first._

The room is quiet now. Now screams and cries of betrayal, no growls of those deep in the throes of an intense debate of life or death. It’s over. It’s all over, done. Ended within moments that dragged on for hours.

Makoto told himself he wanted to escape. But now, as he taps the red button, watches the doors open to a group of fourteen deranged teens kneeling before him, he realizes that he hasn’t gotten that. Instead, he obtained something else. Something so, so much more.

He has been gifted the entire world, all for taking a bit of life.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Anniversary to my favorite game of all time, Dr1!! Yep this is it this is the anniversary present  
> I had an idea i got like five days ago but it was too late so!! This fic is gonna be the present :3 of course my present is a bad end that fucks up everything ever but ya know!!!! That's what I do best


End file.
